


The Saphique Jaune and The Choir of Perfect Harmony

by 999blackflowers



Series: 1920s Supervillain AU [3]
Category: Layton Kyouju Series | Professor Layton Series
Genre: 1920s Supervillain AU, Coping with Death, Emmy is a big lesbian, F/F, Good Environments Apparently, Hiveminds, I Like The Pink Symbol..., Mild Horror, Mostly Gen, Mystery, Seducing Married Women, Wrestling
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-15
Updated: 2020-08-15
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:02:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25895617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/999blackflowers/pseuds/999blackflowers
Summary: Emmy Altava, The Saphique Jaune is contacted one night after one of her performances at her local bar by a mysterious woman asking her for help to sort out something terrible happening in the Choir of Perfect Harmony, and finds herself in quite the mystery.
Relationships: Emmy Altava & Melina Whistler & Janice Quatlane, Janice Quatlane/Melina Whistler
Series: 1920s Supervillain AU [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1717498
Kudos: 3





	1. ART

**Author's Note:**

> A/N from 999blackflowers: Hello, I wanted to try writing a sidestory for this AU that wasn't fetishy smut and didn't have something to do with the male characters. Looks like this passes the Bechdel test, hooray for me lol. This story takes place in the same universe as The Night Pieces, but it is not mandatory to read to understand this work. This fanfiction is rated Teen as the pairing is not problematic and does not contain explicit adult content.
> 
> NOTES ON ARCHIVE WARNINGS:  
> Death is a theme in this fanfiction but I don't want to give out spoilers. No deaths occur that do not also happen in canon. No Emmys were harmed in the making of this work. 
> 
> TRIGGER WARNINGS FOR CHAPTER 1:  
> Simulated Violence  
> Alcohol Mention

Hero work didn’t pay very well, Emmy had learned. But you know what  _ did  _ pay? Performance art, oddly enough.

In a quiet downtown bar in the red light district, Emmy had found a place she had come to call a home away from home. The neon sign outside flickering  _ OPE  _ with a broken N,  _ The Better Side.  _ It was a well maintained bar, and quite busy on the nights Emmy was there. It was not advertised as such, but whispers surrounding the place meant it was quietly known as a gay bar. 

The bartender and owner was a lovely if grizzled man, tattooed all over with muscled arms who could mix up just about anything you asked for. His name was Virgil, and even with his outwardly intimidating build, he had the softest most understanding eyes and plenty of helpful friendly advice on the house.

It was Friday night, so the place was packed. The bar had an entire back room with a makeshift wrestling ring - perhaps quite unsafe, but an elevated stuffed mat of straw was good enough to throw down on. Virgil had made the mat himself after Emmy had proposed a wrestling night in a drunken haze, and it turns out it paid well.

It was one of those nights. Emmy could assume her hero persona of The Saphique Jaune and don a getup consisting of her homemade white fluffy masquerade mask fixed over her eyes, paired with a yellow leotard that showed off her strong thighs and toned arms. Her knee high boots were the same colour as her mask, and she wore a white cape when entering the stage. Her opponent? It didn’t matter, she could always put on a show for her entrance. There was a reason she often managed to bed women after her show, even still slicked with sweat.

Emmy could make out regulars in the crowd as she squinted through her mask behind the curtain. Her boots were on, her cape was fixed on, her mask wouldn’t fall off. Perfect. Perfect. Her opponent tonight was a giant stocky man with a Russian accent - The Free Man, he called himself on stage. She’d talked to him and his French boyfriend beforehand, the agreement was that she was going to win that night. He was apparently well prepared to take several kicks to the jaw, but his boyfriend was slightly concerned for his safety.

The regulars she could spot included a group of drunk men who liked to come in on these nights, a couple pairings of women, although she noted one had been coming alone for the past year or two. She’d come with another person, once, and Emmy always found herself wondering what happened. She usually wore her red hair in a ponytail, but today it hung around her shoulders. She had a black fascinator pinned into her hair, a small hat with a black veil to partially conceal her face, a simple grey dress and black cardigan. It didn’t seem like she was alone today, actually. She was turning over her purple pendant between two fingers as she gazed at the unfamiliar woman next to her, who was looking down at her knees. 

The crowd had a disproportionate amount of women Emmy had  _ never  _ seen before, now that she thought about it. Some of them older, some of them younger, all of them beautiful. They were silent amongst each other, taking up more than half of the audience. She hadn’t expected  _ this  _ level of turnout tonight, but it was what it was.

Virgil was quick to give his introduction speaking to the crowd underneath the bright white light in the room that lit up the stage, hyping them up to little success. Most of the women were merely smiling politely and clapping in comparison to the wild hooting of the regulars - and this one man in the corner she hadn’t seen before who was intensely excited, his fist in the air and a beer in the other.

“...our regular fighter, the Saphique Jaune.” Virgil stepped off the ring to allow Emmy to reveal herself from the curtain, taking fast strong steps towards the ring, being sure to blow a kiss at a particularly darling looking woman she spotted in the crowd. She swooned.

Emmy was sure to hop up onto her ring and struck a dramatic pose for her audience, until her opponent came stomping out from the other curtain. He was indeed a bull of a man. Virgil introduced him, barking out his name.  _ Absolutely unstoppable, here comes The Free Man.  _

Emmy leaned against the side of the ring as the man lumbered out. Of course this match was fixed, but it still made for a good watch. This was a play, not a proper fight. She got to do  _ proper  _ fights when she was out dispatching  _ The Forces of Evil.  _

As the man lumbered into the ring, he clapped his meaty paws together. Emmy kicked off the side of the ring to crack her knuckles, more of a show of strength than anything. This man was too likely big to lift over her head like she could with some, but she could deliver powerful kicks better than anyone.

A whistle blew and the man rushed forwards. Emmy held back a squeak, deciding to stomp on the man’s foot to stop him in his tracks. He gave an uncharacteristic squeak, and kicking off the side of the ring, she drove her foot into his gigantic chest. He caught her leg by surprise and tossed her over his head down onto the ring floor. Not something she expected, but it was a softer throw than the audience actually saw. 

She had a foot driven onto her back and then the man’s giant weight falling on top of her with an enthralled cry from the audience. Emmy used two fingers to jab the man in the neck, forcing him up and allowing her to leap up, delivering a quick kick to the man’s jaw - this time he was not expecting the hit and was left being pushed back to the edge of the ring.

Emmy took a moment to huff proudly, raising her arms to bring a light cheer from the audience. Given how packed it was, it bothered her just how light the praise was. She didn’t let it get to her, deciding to perform one hell of a move where she went from a sprint towards her opponent, planting a kick directly into their chest, somersaulting backwards and somehow sticking the landing, even in her heeled boots. The man growled once more and moved forward to try and grab her. Easily she grabbed him by the back of his leotard, using his own weight to make the man collapse face down.

Dropping to the ground to take the man’s leg in a pin, Virgil started making his count.

One.

Emmy gripped the man’s leg with force. The audience cheered - if politely, but she could feel the man trying to push back against her pin.

Two.

Sweat was pouring down her neck, she only just noticed. Maybe it could be beneficial to tie her hair sometimes in matches where hair grabbing wasn’t arranged. The man tried to kick, but she forced his leg down again.

Three.

Virgil rang a bell, and the match had come to a close. She’d won as planned. Getting to her feet again, she stuck out her arm to the stocky man she felt she could have beaten even in a proper fight as he rolled onto his back, holding a hairy arm up to be helped to his feet. Emmy helped him and punched his shoulder, a grin spreading across her face.

“Congratulations.” The man chuckled heartily. Emmy returned it and shook his hand and went to the side to leave the ring. Perhaps a shorter match that night, but next week she was participating in a whole tournament. She wasn’t going to win it, but goddamn if she wasn’t going to put up a good show. 

The good female portion of the audience was still silent, seemingly twiddling their thumbs or quietly thinking to themselves. Emmy pulled her cape back on only for one woman to rush over, dark brown hair twisted into a neat ponytail.

She turned her gaze and smiled, ever so sultry. “Good evening, ma’am.” Emmy greeted.

The woman blinked slowly and nervously cleared her throat into her fist, before clasping them together to wring them nervously. She was wearing a beautiful green dress, perhaps too formal and fancy for this establishment. “I’m sorry, I’ve seen you in the papers, right?” 

“As the Saphique Jaune?” Emmy quizzed. She remembered a couple of times where her photo wound up on the front page, mask and all, the reporters blissfully unaware of what her name meant as they raved about her preventing the latest bank robbery or heist by some dastardly villain. 

“Yes, yes, the papers, that’s where I’ve seen you.” The woman nodded and reached into her purse, her hands shaking. She withdrew a pamphlet which she held out to Emmy, who took it.

_ The Choir of Perfect Harmony _

_ Performing August 18th _

Emmy was a bit confused at first glance. It didn’t look like anything she was interested in, but it had to be important. Perhaps a fan? But she’d never seen this woman before. “I think it’s important for you to be there.” The woman whispered. “I’m performing there.”

“Is there any particular reason?” Emmy kept the pamphlet in her hand, raising an eyebrow.

“You need to put an end to something that’s happening there. With us.” The woman whispered, remorse in her voice. “It’s- it’s terrible.”

The red haired woman was engaged in quiet conversation with her group. Looking between the pamphlet and the group, Emmy could identify a couple faces from the photo standing in front of her. The red haired woman turned her gaze and smiled. The woman standing by Emmy nodded and quietly whispered she needed to go, but her words were barely audible over the chatter.

This was…  _ suspicious  _ indeed. Emmy tucked the pamphlet into her leotard and hurried back behind the curtain to get dressed and head home to start investigating.


	2. SMALL TALK

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNINGS FOR CHAPTER 2:  
> Food

Emmy pored over the pamphlet in her tiny apartment, her brain ticking over  _ why  _ this was given to her. She had no clue. She’d eaten dinner and taken her nightly bubble bath, put her hair in her curlers, but here she was, hunched over her table by lamplight.

The woman’s words had echoed in her head.  _ Something that’s happening there. With us. It’s terrible. _

Slaves, perhaps. Emmy bit her lip at the thought, her stomach churning. She’d had to deal with horrible things in the past- hell, only just recently she’d been helping The Clockwork Apostle attempt to rescue a child from the arms of the mafia boss simply known as  _ The Professor.  _ It had been only partially successful, their original rescue attempt leading to a knife getting thrown into her foot, and their follow up attempt left her with severe burns and their target having gone missing with the boy in tow.

She scowled as she pushed it out of mind. Nothing she could do now. But freeing what could very well be slaves from some sort of weird choir? That was doable.

\--

It was the night. Emmy was carefully flicking through her extensive closet, trying to figure out what on earth she would wear that night. She had her collection of masks resting on her dresser, which she could match with her outfit and keep hidden in a small satchel. Her camera bag lay on the bed to take photos of any evidence she needed.

She settled on her black pantsuit and the perhaps too tight shirt. The jacket was sleek and the pants were easy and loose enough to deliver fast kicks in, although her white blouse was stretched over her breasts ever so slightly. She topped it off with her red bowtie and her camera bag, and slipped her black and white checked mask on in the mirror. 

Looking in the mirror for an extra second, Emmy decided she would be going in undercover. Slipping her mask off, she opened her little bag to slip it in alongside the bulkier camera and her ticket. She inspected herself once again and decided it was time to head out. 

She kept her scooter down by the road, locked to a post box with a chain and padlock. Hopping down the steps and to her scooter, she quickly popped the lock by entering the combination to unchain the vehicle and sat down to start the engine. Her helmet hung on one of the handles, which she paused to clip on.

Emmy spent a lot of time zipping between traffic on this thing - perhaps not entirely legally, but no one ever gave her trouble. She rode on the sidewalk, empty at this hour, having a map of the city in her mind as she navigated to the theatre. It was a relatively fancy one, if small. A quiet tucked away establishment that did primarily small art film screenings or arthouse dance shows, and perhaps a choir on occasion, judging by this event.

Coming to a quiet intersection, she pulled onto the road, doing a tight corner to find herself on a busier main road. Emmy recognized this was unfortunately the way to the theatre, and slowed down to begin weaving her way through the stopped cars. She wished she had some sort of  _ hero traffic pass  _ which would let her do this legally or without being ticketed, but she doubted those would just be  _ given out.  _

She managed to make it to her destination only knocking her hind view mirror a couple times, stopping outside the theatre and parking her scooter to remove her helmet and chain it to a nearby pole. The theatre had some velvet ropes outside so a ticket man could check people’s tickets, and Emmy took note of the various people attending. Rich socialites looking for a cheap night out. A man with a top hat caught her eye. She was just  _ drawn  _ to those now. 

Emmy tore her eyes off the top hat and looked over a woman wearing a red dress with a fur trim, and white gloves. Another woman in a blue pencil dress and her hair up in an elegant bun adorned with a jeweled hair clip. A man in a suit passing his tickets to the bouncer, who punched them and let the man in.

Emmy entered the line and checked her ticket, noting it gave her access to not only the actual show - which was an hour away, but free champagne and little snacks. Although she came to investigate so although she’d have to turn down the champagne, having snacks was always a boon. A smile came to her face.

Entering the foyer, a man with a pencil thin moustache and a suit welcomed her with a tall thin glass of champagne. Emmy bowed her head politely to decline, but her eyes were drawn to an enormous table of various canapes and what she decided was  _ fancy finger food.  _ A chocolate fountain, as well, which was tempting, but Emmy quickly realized it would be near impossible to eat cleanly.

She reached back into her camera bag to draw her black and white checked mask, affixing it over her eyes. Emmy could mingle with the crowd, and on a different day, maybe she’d try to flirt with some melancholy woman on the arm of her husband to see where it got her. 

Hovering over to a framed poster, Emmy decided to take out her camera to take a picture. The film would all have to be processed later, but if there really was something strange going on here, she could have photo evidence for the press all ready to go. She adjusted the lens to focus and snapped a picture, before spinning around to adjust the lens once more and taking a picture of the crowd present. 

Perhaps there were some suspicious faces in the crowd she could pick out later. Tucking her camera back into her bag, she decided to quietly pick someone out to talk to. She settled on a woman dripping with jewels and sparkles, diamond studded earrings and her honey hair swept into a beautiful elegant updo, in a lily white dress and elbow length gloves over her dainty fingers. She was alone, gently sipping from her champagne and surveying the crowd. Emmy approached slowly.

“Good evening, madam.” Emmy approached from behind, tapping her shoulder. The woman turned her gaze, raising an eyebrow.

“Good evening.” The woman turned around, sliding a finger around the rim of her glass. Her eyes were piercing,  _ challenging.  _ Complex. Emmy couldn’t help but wonder what was going on there.

“I was just wondering what brought you here tonight. What’s your name?” Emmy spoke with hooded eyelashes. The woman did not appear receptive. 

“My name is Mrs. Holland.” She spoke over her wine glass. “I came here to watch the choir, like everyone else did here tonight.”

“Have you seen them perform before?” Emmy briefly wished she brought her notepad, but this wasn’t too much information to keep in her mind, hopefully

“Once before. It was a while back, I must admit.” Mrs. Holland recalled in a soft voice. “Their group was much smaller, from what I remember.”

That was an interesting tidbit. Emmy mentally noted that down.

“Were they always  _ The Choir of Perfect Harmony? _ ” Emmy recited the full name. 

“From what I remember, yes.” Mrs. Holland nodded, before taking another deep sip from her wine glass. Emmy  _ did  _ come here to investigate this place, but she found herself entranced by this woman. A little bit more interrogation couldn’t hurt.

“Did you come here with your husband, Miss?” Emmy clasped her hands together nervously.

“No, the pathetic sod insisted on staying home to listen to his silly radio show.” Mrs. Holland seemed mildly aggravated at the mere mention of him. Emmy felt her chest lift.

“Well, I suppose we’ll have to keep in touch or talk later.” Emmy nodded and decided to make her way to the canapes table. She was a touch peckish, after all. She found herself at the table with platters of little salmon slices topped with cream cheese on some thin crackers, brie and strawberries, tiny little chocolate truffles…

Plucking a salmon cracker to pop into her mouth, she shut her eyes to savour the taste for a moment before chewing to swallow, and grabbing a chocolate truffle. Then some strawberries and brie.

“Excuse me…”

Emmy popped another truffle into her mouth until a slender finger tapped her shoulder. She spun around and spotted a short woman with her blonde hair twisted into a ponytail, wearing a long silk robe and gazing at her with wet sad eyes. When their eyes met, Emmy quickly realized the woman had probably been trying to get her attention for a while.

“I’m so glad you came, Saphique.” The woman smiled faintly, bowing her head. 

“I’m sorry, have we met before?” Emmy returned the smile weakly.

“We have, but not like this.” The woman responded flatly. Emmy felt a bit trapped, half leaning against the canape table. “I’m one of the choir singers. You talked to one of us the other night.”

Emmy took a moment to register and snapped her fingers. “Your co-singer told me something was afoot here, and I’ve come to sort things out.” 

“We’re ever so grateful.” She bowed her head and held something out to Emmy. Emmy took it to squint at it behind her mask, finding it was a behind stage pass on a lanyard. 

“Should I come now?” Emmy asked as she hung it around her neck.

“We think you should wait until after the performance.” The woman bowed her head once more. “Come find one of us when you’re ready.”

Emmy had gone back to grasping for a chocolate on the platter when she turned her gaze back to the woman, only to find she had disappeared. Her eyes went to the front of the foyer, to see the large twin doors had opened into the theatre.

With a deep breath, Emmy decided to start making her way to her seat.


End file.
